


Try to Understand

by sidium



Category: The Avengers (2012), The Incredible Hulk (2008), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Awesome Darcy Lewis, Bruce Has Issues, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:30:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidium/pseuds/sidium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Bruce tried to make Darcy understand about the Hulk, and the one time she made him understand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try to Understand

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Holliswrites. <3

1\. “Dude! That was awesome!” 

Bruce may be completely exhausted, despite the fact of passing out for five hours when the Other Guy relinquished control, and he may be contemplating where the nearest available sleeping location is right now, but first, he has to handle Darcy.

Okay, to be fair, that sounded bad. He doesn’t have to “handle” her, as though she’s a pesky annoyance to be rid of; they’ve been dating for a couple months now, and he’s quite fond of her presence, thank you. But right now, she’s super-excited and chattering away while he’s super-exhausted and just wanting to lie down. Not their greatest combination.

Especially when the thing she’s so excited about is seeing what the Hulk does during battle.

“You know,” He says, slowly, “I’m not sure that’s the phrase I’d be using for-”

“It’s the one I’m using. I mean, I heard stories and crap, but those guys always exaggerate. But really, you were like, smashing the shit out of those robot guys.” She says, and her volume makes him glad they’re outside, making their way back to Stark Tower so he can finally collapse into glorious unconsciousness for a while.

“Doombots.”

“Yeah, Doombots, whatever. Not the point-” No, the point for him is that he’s blissfully happy he was lucky enough that she wasn’t there to see it first hand, relying on news reports and shitty cellphone videos uploaded to the internet. The point for him is that this is bad. This is exactly what he didn’t want, what he’s hoping wouldn’t happen. 

“Darcy.” He says, tired but patient, trying to get her attention.

“The point is, you were like, throwing them against the side of that building and it was just like, oh-my-god, kind of awesome, you know?” she’s still talking a mile-a-minute and he’s momentarily reminded of Tony’s same over-excited speech. He sighs deeply, and stares at the sidewalk as they go. The only way this can work is if she understands how dangerous the Hulk can be. It’ll only work if she promises to stay the hell away from him when there’s a chance he loses control, and even then, the chance of this working is small. He knows that. It was a risk he decided to take, but he’ll change his opinion if she doesn’t understand. 

She has to understand. She shouldn’t be bouncing around in circles about this. 

“Not really. Darcy, Listen.” he tries again, but she talks over him, still gesturing animatedly with her hands, looking like a little kid, eyes bright with excitement.

“And then the thing with the lazers was being all crazy and shit-” 

“Could you just-”

“and Thor did his whole Hammer of Doom thing and fried it.”

“Yeah, I know. Darcy, I need-” he tries to be a little louder this time, but it doesn’t help.

“Okay, tell me I’m crazy, but wouldn’t it be awesome if we could like, sell one of those things to a museum or something? eBay. Let’s auction them off on eBay.” 

And he knows, okay? He knows damn good and well he should keep trying, and get through to her. He knows he shouldn’t let her go on with this cracked-out, ridiculous belief that the Hulk is something to be excited about or celebrated. He knows. 

But they’ve just walked into the lobby of Stark Tower, and a bed is in his imminent future and the promise of being curled up with her is right in front of him, and he’s tired down to his bones and she... she’s happy. She’s happy with her eyes bright, skin flushed with joy, voice over-loaded with excitement, and it makes something inside him unwind, as wrong as it is. They may have only been together a couple months, but seeing her happy is one of his new favorite things. 

And he just can’t bring himself to squash that. Not right now.

“...Yeah, that’s a great idea.” he agrees, with a half-hearted smirk, which she fortunately attributes to his exhaustion. She stops talking, although she looks ready to burst out with more commentary at any time, and takes his hand. They step onto the elevator together, and she lets him lean against her for support as the elevator rises. 

He’ll talk to her tomorrow.

\---------

2\. “Hey.” She says softly, running a hand through his hair. His head throbs and his muscles ache and he idly wonders how long he was out for this time.

“Hi.” His voice is gravel-rough, and he winces at the sound. Darcy doesn’t seem bothered, just continues to pet him in a way that should feel condescending, like she thinks he’s a pet of some kind, but instead makes him sigh and close his eyes in contentment. 

A quick mental calculation of feeling lets him know he’s naked, with his head in Darcy’s lap, but upside, he has a blanket over him. A quick glimpse around shows their in his bedroom at the Tower, alone, before he snaps his eyes back shut and groans. Well, it’s not bad. Woken up to much worse.

“So, you were kind of amazing today.” She says after a moment, and oh, god. Not this again. Not this Hulk-praising crap that makes him want to shake her until she understands. He never did get around to it last time, almost six weeks before, letting the moment pass was a bad idea, and then it just never came up again. And yeah, he probably should’ve made it, but sometimes it was just easier to ignore.

“Not really.” He says back, flatly. Yup. Simple disagreement, with no elaboration. That’s the road he’s taking today and he’s not apologizing. He might be convinced to do more if his bones weren’t aching even more than normal. But they are, so...

“Yup, kicked butt harder than last time.” She say, confident and affectionate, and someday, someday, Bruce is going to understand where people like Darcy and Tony, who he could swear sometimes are related, get this attitude. That you can just throw common sense into the wind and be friends, be close to someone who could inadvertently kill you at the drop of a hat and everything would be perfectly fine.

“Given your description, I didn’t think that was even possible.” He says, eyes still closed.

“It was. Totally.” She says, and Bruce rolls his closed eyes. 

“I doubt there was anything-”

“You stopped a brick wall from collapsing on Clint. I vote ‘awesome’ on that one.” Darcy says, quiet and serious. 

Now he knows why everything aches more than normal. Well, then.

He also knows he can’t say a single bad thing about the Hulk, because she’d sit there with that pleased, proud look on her face and completely ignore everything he says, because the Other Guy managed to do one good thing. 

And right now, if it means having his team-mate, his friend, alive, he might have to admit, maybe she has a point this time. 

“Yeah... I guess I would, too.” He agrees slowly. He knows he’s going to fall asleep on her again, and he’s too exhausted and in too much pain to particularly care. And this time, she may have won the argument before it started, but that’s this time. 

God, he hopes there’s no next time.

\----

3\. And there’s a next time. Fantastic. 

“Hey.” she says. “How’re you feeling?”

“Exhausted.” he replied, honestly, pulling the blanket covering him up a little more. He’s in her apartment, naked again. He really wishes Tony would finish those stupid pants. He promised right after the last Hulk out and that was two months ago. 

“Figured.” She says, stepping closer and handing him a pile of clothing. “Here.”

“What’s this?” He asks, post-fight disorientation making his thoughts cloudy and slow.

“Some of your clothes.” Darcy answers, and it’s half casual, half shifty and he narrows his eyes at her.

“How did my clothes get into your apartment?” He asks, suspiciously. He vaguely remembers leaving a t-shirt there once, but never complete outfits.

“I’m not a stalker, I swear.” she says, putting her hands up in defense and then dropping them down slightly, smirking, “Well, maybe. A little bit of one. But just for you, though, if that helps.” She shrugs and kisses him, a hand on his cheek, as though it’s going to distract him. He’s not distracted, but he’s never been stupid enough to turn down her kisses. He presses back, not trying to deepen the kiss, just enjoying the contact. After a second, she pulls back and gives him a wink. He’s not deterred. Nice try, though. 

“Darcy.” He says, giving her a look that he knows she knows what it means, and he sees her instantly cave.

“I thought it might be a good idea to keep some of your stuff here.” She says, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“In case you hulked out closer to my place than yours.” She says, nonchalantly, and goes to turn away. He gently grabs her arm and tugs her back, and she complies easily, blushing in a way he’s never seen her do before. It’s adorable. He blinks a few seconds trying to piece together all the information he’s been handing and it’s coming up blank. 

Finally, fortunately, she takes pity on him and sighs. “Well, you’re always beat to hell when you, you know, come back. I figure this way if my place is closer, you won’t have to go so far for a rest stop to recharge.” She says it like she’s embarrassed, like he’s going to be angry, or upset. He’s not sure what he is, at the moment to be honest.

“You... I don’t...” He stutters, letting go of her arm to desperately grab at the sheet almost dropping off his hips. 

“Sorry if I crossed a line.” She says, quietly. And god, he’s not happy about this, not at all. She’s acting like him fucking mutating every so often is normal, expected and she’s being accommodating, making herself a part of his routine, and this is all going to come back and bite them both in the ass so hard.

“No, no. No... lines.” He says, because it’s true. Her ‘stealing’ some of his clothes ranks so low on the list of things he cares about and he stares at her for a moment, wishing so hard he could get through to her. Get her to leave this mess behind before they’re in over their heads even more than they already are. “I just... don’t think you understand, sometimes. What I am.” 

It’s lame, he knows, but the haze is just starting to lift and it’s the best he’s got right now. 

“Sometimes, I think I understand better than you do.” She replies, yanking the sheet off his hips with a shit-eating grin.

When everything is said and done, it takes a few days before he even remembers that she said that.

It takes him a week before he understands what she meant.

\---------

4\. “You know, the Other Guy isn’t the person you should be rooting for.” Bruce says. 

They’re on the couch together, watching an Animal Planet documentary; her head is in his lap and he can’t stop running his fingers through her hair.

“Why not? He’s you.” Darcy says, reasonably, turning to lie on her back and look at him.

“Except not.” Bruce argues looking down at her and tugging gently on her hair, making her tilt her head back a little and giggle, “I mean, c’mon, his big contribution to the group is ‘smash!’”

“It’s a great contribution.” She says, confidently, grinning brightly. 

“It’s dangerous.” Bruce points out, seriously. His hand hesitates in her hair. 

“Yeah, exactly.” She says, nodding. 

“No, Darcy. It’s dangerous.” He puts special emphasis on the word, hoping to get through to her.

“Yeah.” She agrees, nodding slightly. He sighs. She still doesn’t get it.

“It’s dangerous for you.” He says, slowly, as though speaking to a child. He hates that tone, and he almost immediately regrets using it, but Darcy doesn’t seem offended.

“Oh. Ha. No.” She says, turning herself back toward the TV.

“Yes, actually.” Bruce corrects, still not taking his hand out of her hair.

“Not really.” She says, back to almost being completely absorbed in the penguin documentary playing. 

“How can you even say that?” He asks, because he really wants to know. He wants to know what goes through this amazing woman’s head that she sees what he can do, what he is, and not see the danger. He knew this was a risk when they got together, but he thought she would be more cautious, more afraid. Instead, she’s supportive to the point of insane. And yes, she’s taken the whole Avenger Initiative in stride, dealing with super-soldiers, Norse gods, assassins and, well, Tony, but there has to be a point where she relents. 

“Thor,” Darcy asks, as the god himself steps into the living room and seats himself in the chair nearby. “Is the Hulk a danger?” She asks innocently, and Bruce almost doesn’t even realize that he holds his breath waiting for his teammates answer.

“To his enemies, the beast is a fearsome foe to behold, yes.” Thor answers, tilting his head considering, before turning to the TV screen. 

“Not his enemies, dude. I meant his friends.” Darcy says.

“Nay, he remains a loyal comrade.” Thor says, turning back to her and Bruce, grinning proudly, “I am glad to have him at my side upon battle.” Bruce notices Thor makes sure he’s looking at Bruce when he says this, and Bruce takes a second to breath. Suddenly Thor’s face grows serious and he asks Darcy in an alarmed tone, “Why, is someone questioning his honor?”

“No, no honor questioning, we’re good.” Darcy waves a hand dismissively and Thor nods and turns away. “See?” Darcy says, turning her head enough to look at Bruce, and poke him in his ribs, “Thor says ‘no,’ too.”

“I’m not sure a Norse God is the vote we should count.” He says, disapprovingly, and he knows it’s done for now, so he resumes petting her hair and watching a baby penguin hatch.

\------------

5\. “Hey.” She says, and it lacks the usual post-Hulk excitement. He notices it, but he’s not sure what it means or what to do about it.

“Hi.” He says, glancing around long enough to see they’re currently curled up in his bed, facing one another, tucked under covers and appropriately exhausted.

“So...” She starts out, slowly, “When Tony called you a giant rage monster, he really wasn’t kidding.” She’s subdued, and it’s weird. Bruce wishes his thoughts were more in order because it feels like the obvious answer is staring him in the face, but his low energy level is making it impossible to get through. 

Darcy is loud, hyperactive, chatty, all movement and spark and... you know, someday he’s going to do a blood test on Tony and Darcy and find out if they’re related. It would be weird as fuck dating Tony’s unknown daughter, but at least it would explain the similarities between them. He puts the thought aside for the moment.

“What made you think he was?” Bruce asks, because really, why would you kid about that?

“Dude, half the shit he says is just that. I don’t exactly take his words of wisdom to heart.” Darcy says, running a hand through Bruce’s hair, watching the curls spring back into place. He practically purrs at the gesture.

“Smart girl.” He says this with a soft laugh. It’s just comfortable enough, and he’s just exhausted enough and Darcy’s right here. He’s gonna sleep for the next, oh... two, maybe three weeks. Yeah, that sounds good.

“Yeah. Kinda different when you see it up close, though,” Darcy says, casually. It takes a second for her words to break through his bubble of post-Hulk incoherence and then--

“See what? Wait, what?” He’s suddenly sitting straight up, exhaustion quickly becoming a minor inconvenience and glaring at Darcy suspiciously. “What are you talking about?”

“See you, super-roided out. It’s... more intimidating than I originally presumed.” She sits up, and rests her elbow on her knee, gesturing vaguely with her hands. “Still pretty cool, though.” She finishes it as an afterthought, shrugging.

“You were around?” he asks, bracing himself for the answer he just knows is coming.

“Yeah.”

“While I was...?” 

“Yeah.”

“Oh, god.” Oh no, no, no. Not good. Not good at all. His mind immediately starts flashing with all the scenarios that could’ve happened. All the way Hulk could’ve hurt her, could’ve killed her. How he could’ve woken up to the worst news and only had himself to blame. He can’t... That can’t... his mind feels like it’s going four thousand miles per hour and he can’t get over the sick sense of dread in his stomach.

“What?” she asks, concerned, putting a hand on his shoulder and he quickly shrugs it off. Annoyance, or hurt, flashes across her face but he beats her to it.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?” he practically shouts. She flinches back from him and he has to stop. He can feel himself losing it, his heart-rate rising and God, the irony of it all if he actually lost it right now. He cradles his head in his hands and breathes.

“Not as much as you’re thinking, I’m thinking.” She says, slightly annoyed, but quieter.

“Darcy.” Bruce says, dejectedly, picking his head up and looking at her. “You can’t-” But she cuts him off before he can finish.

“Dude, he poked me in the side and asked, ‘You Darcy?’ I said ‘Yes,’ and he made a grunty noise like that big, creepy dude from the Addams family and walked away. I don’t think he particularly cares about my existence in the universe.” 

He never thought he’d see the day someone defend his other half, but here it is, in all it’s twisted glory.

“Yes, well, I do.” He says, laying back down and tugging on her arm to lie down along with him, “So, that needs to... not happen, again. You can’t be... around, when I’m... like that.” He can learn to deal with her being happy about the Hulk’s existence. Probably. Maybe. But knowing she’s around when he’s...? She can’t... It can’t... There’s no way he could deal with that.

“Are you kidding?” she asks, side-eyeing him as she complies.

“No.” He’s so far from kidding, it’s not even remotely kind of funny. 

“You’re such a weirdo.” She says, pulling the blankets back up over both of them, and when he wakes up in the middle of the night, accidentally kicking her awake and trying hard to remember how to breathe, she’ll pull him close and whisper nonsense. They’ll both pretend they don’t know the gist of the nightmare that shocks him awake, and neither of them will talk about it. 

\-----------

+1. “Darcy, I need to talk to you,” he says, stepping into her bedroom. She’s sliding her shoes on, and running her fingers through her hair. She looks fantastic, as always, even in jeans and a t-shirt. He doesn’t know how in the hell he got someone as beautiful and amazing as her interested, but it’s a moot point. They’re supposed to go out to dinner, but he can’t keep this up anymore.

“Okay,” She says, putting her hands up defensively, “I don’t know who told you about the whole firecracker in the vents fiasco, but I swear-” 

“No, this isn’t about that.” He cuts her off, shaking his head. She seems to acknowledge his sullen demeanor, and she drops her hands to her sides. 

“Oh. Shoot, then.” She says, giving a little shrug.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” He says, raising his hands up in surrender. He wishes he’d said something else, could say something else. Wishes things were different, that he was different. But it’s not and he said it.

“Do what, talk to me?” She tilts her head in confusion, and he gives her a little smirk.

“This. You. Me.” He says, gesturing between them, his voice serious and grave. It takes a second but he sees the comprehension click. 

“Ohhh. That ‘this.’” She says, eyes widening just a fraction.

“Yeah. That one.” He says, letting his shoulders sag.

“It’s the age thing, isn’t it?” Darcy asks, knowingly. She crosses her arms in front of her and nods, and what the..

“What?” He asks, taken completely off-guard.

“You’re like, twice my age. Is that the problem? Cause I could go all naughty-school girl if that helps.” She says, easily. Like offering to dress up as a school-girl is a normal, everyday offer.

“No. That’s- that’s a good point actually, but no. It’s not the age, and no naughty school girls. What are you even- Never mind.” 

“Oh please, like you don’t wanna see me in a little Catholic school get-up? You know you do. I know a place on 17th, I could totally-” Darcy puts her hands on her hips, as her voice takes on a teasing note.

“That’s really not the point right now.” He says, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. He takes a deep breath. 

“Not a ‘no,’ I’m noticing.” she says, grinning and wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Darcy.” He says, and it sounds like a plea to his own ears but it doesn’t slow her down.

“Okay, fine! Is it the fact my IQ is like, 100 points below yours, cause I know I don’t science-geek out like you do, but I-” 

“You’re smart, Darcy.” He never wants her to feel anything less than the person she is, and just the implication she’s not enough somehow, sets his teeth on edge. “That’s never been in question. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Then what is it?” She asks, finally getting serious.

“Do you really have to ask?”

“Ohhh…Really? Him?” Darcy asks, raising an skeptical eyebrow in a gesture reminiscent of Natasha. He wonders if maybe it’s a girl thing.

“C’mon, Darce, you can’t tell me this is smart, or safe. It’s dangerous, so stupidly dangerous I can’t even explain to you how badly this could all go.” He says, he crosses his arms in front of him, a stupid defensive posture and it doesn’t help. He still feels like he’s losing everything and he knows the right thing to do is to let it all go.

“You know, I was warned about this.” She says, leaning against her dresser. She looks thoughtful, and he wonders what she’s up to.

“What?”

“Yeah. When this whole “us” thing started, I got a shovel talk. Kind of. Sorta. Not really, actually. I mean, I got a talk, anyway. Didn’t have as much shovel as one might presume.” She says, gesturing vaguely with her hand.

“From who?” He asks, although he’s pretty damn sure he already knows the answer.

“Tony.” Bingo.

“Really?” He says, raising his eyebrows. He can’t wait to hear what Tony had to say on the subject of him and Darcy.

“Yeah. He warned me you’d try this.” Darcy nods.

“He did.” Bruce says, dryly. 

“Yeah, he warned me that you had issues, and that you’d probably try to run and push me away to ‘protect me.’” She even makes the little quotation marks with her manicured green fingernails and he’s pretty sure that’s not a coincidence. 

“He said that?” 

“Yeah. For someone who can be a real douche, he had some really accurate insight on you, man. Should give him more credit.” She says, shrugging. She moves away from the dresser and closer to him.

“Oh God, no. Don’t feed his ego. What-what else did he say?” Bruce isn’t sure he wants to hear this.

“He said not to let it faze me, cause you’re a good guy and you don’t deserve the kind of pain you put yourself through. And I gotta agree with the guy.” He shivers as she reaches out and runs a hand down his arm. 

“I... Darcy.” He stares at the floor. This would be so much easier if she would let go. Move on. Find someone who isn’t a constant threat to her life and be happy. 

“Bruce, listen.” She says, putting her fingers under his chin and tilting his head up to meet her gaze, “I care about you. Tony cares about you. Steve, Natasha, Thor, Clint, Coulson cares about you. And we know what you are, and we know who you are. We know what you’re capable of, and we know how you act; when you get up in the morning and you’re all like, grumpy and shit, when you’re kinda tipsy drunk and chatty, when you’re thinking of running away and yeah, when you do your ‘smash’ thing. We know you.”

She moves her fingers away from his face, and takes his hands in hers.

“And guess what? We’re all still here. Tony’s still with you in the lab, geeking out with you. Steve is still here, trading novels with you. Thor is still in the living room, watching documentaries with you. And I’m still here, with you, and I don’t plan on leaving. So drop the noble self-sacrificing bullshit and just let me love you. All of you. Even the big, green parts you so desperately wanna hate. Okay?”

He doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to argue. He’s not even sure he wants to, more tempted to tackle her to the bed, kiss her over and over and whisper confessions of love until they fall asleep together. And she’d let him. That’s the hardest part. She’d accept him and never even question it. 

“This is such a bad idea, I can’t even.” He says, looking down at their hands. 

“Do you want me to leave?” She asks, her voice barely above a whisper and Bruce’s gaze snaps up. 

“What?” He swears he heard her wrong.

“If this is really going to be a problem, do you want me to leave? Is that the only way this can end?” she asks, quiet and sad. Like she knows the answer and she’s trying to decide which suitcases she’s going to use.

And it’s different. It’s different when it’s not theory. When it’s what you “should” do versus what’s happening. He could lie. He could say he wants her to leave, that he’d be happier without her around. She’d be safer and she’d get over it. 

But the thought of actually waking up without her, now that the very real possibility has been set in front of him. It hurts worse than worrying about her ever did.

And she’s right, anyway. He knows it down in his bones. She’s a smart woman, she knows what she’s doing, even when it scares him. And while the thought of the Hulk hurting her scares him to death, the very real idea of her leaving, of watching her get on an elevator and leave and not come home, makes his skin crawl and his stomach cramp. He can’t do it. 

“Please, don’t,” he says, quietly. He does the selfish thing; moves forward to envelop her in a tight hug and her arms wrap arm his neck; pulling him close, kissing him on the temple. 

“Well, then.”


End file.
